Cold
by Valerie E. Mackin
Summary: Sequel to my Highlander fic "End." Amanda's thoughts concerning Dunacan after her death. Main character death and mention of several others. One-shot.


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters within this story except the briefly mentioned Sonya. All other characters belong to the owners of Highlander.  
  
Author's Note: This is the sequel to one of my other highlander Fanfics, End. It does help to read End, although I do believe the mark of a good sequel is that it can stand on its own feet, so to speak without the help of its predecessor; unfortunately, if you don't read End, you just might get lost. I hate it, but it's kind of necessary. Yes, the death of a major character takes place within these words. You are forewarned.  
  
Cold  
  
It's cold here, Duncan.  
  
There's not much else to this place. Gray rocks as far as the eye can see, a veritable wasteland of crags and rocks and ditches and cracks. Small pools of water here and there…And cold. Lots and lots of cold.   
  
At least I don't have to worry about freezing to death, right? I mean, once you're dead, you can't very well die again.  
  
I take that back. I've died hundreds of times, as have you, but even we only die once like this. The irrevocable death, the big one, the permanent passage, the final farewell: call it what you will; I'm not coming back from this one. There's just no way back from the afterlife. Believe me, I've tried to get out of this, just like I tried so hard to get out of every sticky situation in my life…Then again, you were usually there to help me out of those jams. This one is all for me.  
  
I tried so hard to stay with you. For once, no matter how much I argued, I couldn't get out of this one. There simply wasn't anyone with whom I could argue or even a way I could seduce myself out of the situation.   
  
I watched you cry next to my body for the longest time after the quickening. At first, I wondered if you'd even get up or if you were still alive, you lay there for so long. Eventually, you got up, shaken and disoriented as we all are, and then you saw my body. I almost went to pieces with you. I wanted to help you but I didn't know what to do, what I could do. I wanted to say something, tried to say something, to hold, touch you, anything. I was less than a breath of wind to you those first few minutes after my death. I tried so hard to come back, but I guess I just didn't try hard enough.  
  
Or maybe I tried too hard.  
  
You see, as I watched you kneel there next to my body, I suddenly felt myself being pulled away; I couldn't bear to be pulled away from you no matter what the consequences would be in my afterlife, so I pulled back. I know it sounds silly and rather generic, but I simply pulled away from the "light." After a while, whoever or whatever was pulling at me must've decided I wasn't worth the fight and gave up, because I was free. A small victory, but you know how I am with victories: even the tiniest is still just that, a tiny victory.   
  
I know now that I did hear your last words to me correctly. I know I heard them because you repeated the over and over as you wept beside my body. "I'll see you soon." Then you stood, picked up your sword, and walked away.   
  
I followed you. I think you knew, or at least sensed. You would pause every few steps as though you'd heard my whispers or felt my attempts at caressing you, and you would turn and gaze back at my headless body a few moments. Yes, it was still there where you'd left it; I, however, was not. I followed you simply because I didn't know what else to do.   
  
My death affected you more somehow than any of the others…That hesitation I saw in you just before you…just before I died. It was real. I saw it in you more and more as the days passed. The killer in you was still in control, but the real you was fighting back now.   
  
You only killed once more after my death, and afterwards you wept. I knew then that you were breaking free of the darkness that had bound you within yourself for so long. I only prayed (yes, I prayed) that you could somehow live with the knowledge that you'd been responsible for the deaths of not only innocent people but innocent people you'd known and loved for centuries. And, of course, you couldn't. You never could.  
  
Oh, Duncan, I watched every second of your pain, your guilt, knowing I had in part caused its existence. I was there with you, baby; I tried to comfort you, and sometimes I think I almost did. You'd look in my direction with that special little half-smile you used to give me when I'd done something bothersome that you'd have to fix again. That was my smile, reserved only for me in life, and now in death. Oh, God, Duncan, I did love.   
  
I still do.  
  
And then, inevitably, you lost your will to live. Oh, you'd done this before but never so drastically. Usually, you'd just quit the game and go live on Holy Ground for a few months or years. But not this time. This time you gave up entirely. I'd never seen you so depressed, not even when Tessa died. You stopped fighting, stopped eating, stopped carrying your sword, stopped trying to avoid death. You went searching for immortals once more, but this time your only desire was your own death, an end to your pain and suffering.   
  
Do you know how much I suffered for you? How I wept?  
  
As fate would have it, the first immortal you met was her…Sonya. She drew her sword, ready for the Challenge, but of course, you had no sword. You opened your arms to her, offering an easy target. She offered to wait until you retrieved a sword or call off the Challenge entirely, you refused and begged her to end it for you. You reached out to her in your moment of need, and you touched her heart, just like you touched the hearts of all those who've loved you…All those who died at your hands.  
  
Thank God she had the same strict morals as you, the Boy Scout Laws we used to call them. She refused to kill you unarmed. Eventually, she wrestled the whole story from you. She was, of course, horrified by everything you'd done, but she was a sharp girl. She knew you hadn't been yourself, literally.  
  
So Sonya took you under her wing, cared for you and loved you the way you deserved to be lover. The way I never could. And then, one day, it happened.  
  
You looked at her and the love was there: the same look you'd given Tessa, the same look you'd given Richie to some extent, the very look I'd craved with my entire being when I was alive…even after I was dead.   
  
I take back what I said earlier. You can die permanently twice…I died again that day.  
  
My heart was broken. I know it was my fault that you never looked at me that way, that I caused you so much grief and annoyance. I'm so sorry…But you'll never know that. It was my fault you never loved me, but it still hurt. I may have never been the one for you, but you were the only for me.  
  
From that day on, I began fading away from you. Or you began to fade away from me. I'm still not sure which, really. Eventually, after a long time, I found myself here. Like I said, there's nothing but the rocks, the water, and the cold. I fit imperfectly for once.  
  
After that, I caught glimpses of your new life in the pools of water. At first, I was amazed at this magic and thrilled with my fortune. If I could not be with you, at least I could watch your happiness. And you were so happy those last few months. You and Sonya laughing together at the latest musical to hit Broadway, you and Sonya sitting together in a small Parisian café somewhere, you and Sonya making love….God, that hurt the most, Duncan. That really hurt.  
  
One thing was different, though. You may have regained your will to live, but you never again played the game. Not once did you pick up a sword after that last death. Of course, you had Sonya to protect you now. But even the ones we love can't always protect us, as I well know. She couldn't be with you all the time.  
  
Eventually, a revenge-crazed protégé of Cassandra's…or Connor's…Or Rebecca…Or Fitz or Methos. There's no telling. It could have even been a mortal friend of Joe's. Who knows? Does it really matter? Of the scores of people you killed when you were under the Darkness, someone's friend came back for vengeance. And you had no sword. You also didn't truly believe you deserved to live for the crimes you'd committed. Oh, you tried to talk your way out of it, but not for yourself.  
  
Only for her. For Sonya's sake. You couldn't hurt her.  
  
By the time Sonya got there, you were gone…Your body was there, and your killer was as well. Sonya was mortified. It was her code of honor, ironically, which caused her to kill your executioner. Your perfect Sonya killed that young immortal, a child compared to her, in a rage of which I've never seen the likes.   
  
She killed for you, you realize…She murdered someone for your sake, for the sake of honor and following the rules of the game. I would've done that for you. I would've crawled across the Sahara for you, leaving behind everything, if you'd only asked. I would've taken my own head, ridiculous though the idea sounds. Hell, I would've given up every second of my life spent thieving if only you'd asked me to stop; I mean truly asked. You would tell me so very often that it was wrong, that I always got into trouble out of which you always had to bale me…But you never said you wanted me to stop.  
  
Don't you see I would've done anything if you'd only asked? I may not have been perfect, but I still had my pride.  
  
But you never asked. Because you had your damned Scottish pride, too, Highlander. You were too proud to ask. But you weren't too proud to lie.  
  
You lied to me, Duncan. No matter what I complain you did or didn't do, no matter how much I feel you wronged me, the worst thing you ever did was to lie to me. When I died, you promised you would join me. Your words: "I'll see you soon." How empty. You gave your promise with your words. I saw it in your eyes. I felt it from your soul. And somehow, you still lied to me.  
  
Because you didn't join me.  
  
I don't know, maybe you were forgiven for everything you'd done. Maybe I just screwed up my one chance in the end. But none of that matters. What matters is that just before the blade swung down, you whispered your last good-byes to her. You asked her to forgive you for leaving her behind, for being so foolish as to walk around unarmed. You whispered your undying love to her forever.   
  
And not to me.  
  
You didn't join me when you died. I saw you through one of my pools. You were pulled, just as I'd been at first, only the pull for you was much stronger. I could see others pulling for you, our friends from the old days. They were smiling and happy to see you once more, even after the things you'd done to them. Richie, Joe, Methos, Connor…And Tessa. Even Tessa was smiling, though you'd just given your dying praises to another woman. They welcomed you and took you away with them. The last I saw of you, you were smiling and laughing, surrounded by love. I was weeping.  
  
And now I'm here, still alone. Occasionally I weep, but the emotions are beginning to fade as well. Everything seems to be fading. But not the pain. My heart still hurts. And I'm just so cold. 


End file.
